


Secret Desires

by wightfaerie



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 00:57:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wightfaerie/pseuds/wightfaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starsky and Hutch want to explore the world of bondage. An experienced Dom offers to help them. Starsky finds out what it's like to watch another manhandle his lover. Can he stand by and let the Dom own his Hutch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret Desires

Secret Desires

Starsky stared at his TV screen. He blinked, trying to focus on the credits rolling slowly from bottom to top. Had he really just sat and watched High Society again?

Hutch snored gently, pressing the back of his head against Starsky's crotch. Hutch had stretched out on the couch, lying across Starsky's lap, about halfway through the movie.

When had they progressed from torrid sex to preferring a late night TV session? Starsky ran his fingers through Hutch's soft, newly washed hair. It wasn't that he expected the passion of their earlier days to continue, but they seemed to be going backwards. True, they'd been working non-stop for weeks, but still. He nudged Hutch. "Hey, movie's done."

"What?" Hutch opened his eyes lethargically and gazed up at Starsky. "Did I fall asleep?"

"Yeah." Again, Starsky added mentally. He smiled and ruffled Hutch's hair. "Come on, let's go to bed." He bucked his knees, giving Hutch the hint to move. 

"I'm sorry," Hutch said. "I didn't mean to drop off." He reached up and pulled Starsky's head down, raising his to meet Starsky's mouth. He brushed his lips against Starsky's and nipped his bottom lip gently. 

"'S'okay. I felt the same way." Starsky didn't want Hutch to feel bad for being tired. It wasn't like they'd stopped making love altogether.

"You went to sleep?" Hutch asked, raising an eyebrow.

Starsky hitched a breath. From this angle, Hutch looked so wide eyed and innocent. Those eyes really were baby blue. Starsky used to laugh when girls commented on his partner's eyes. Now he knew what they meant. "I was thinking. While you were asleep." He stopped. Did he really mean what he was about to say?

"What?" Hutch said, sitting up and pulling Starsky into a hug.

"Nothing." Starsky wasn't quite sure how to start the conversation now that he'd opened his big mouth.

"It's not nothing. Not if your expression is anything to go by." Hutch stroked the side of Starsky's face. "Talk to me."

Starsky took a deep breath. Here goes. "I was thinking about us. How we couldn't keep our hands off each other." He paused, searching Hutch's face for a reaction. "In the beginning." 

A flicker of uncertainty crossed Hutch's face, then he smiled. "We really went the whole hog. Ripping our clothes off almost before we'd gotten through the door." He glanced to the wooden door.

Starsky'd been crushed against it a few times in Hutch's haste to get him naked. "We don't do that any more." Starsky felt more than a tinge of regret as he said it.

Hutch shook his head, looking thoughtful. "No. No, we don't," he admitted. "Do you think we're turning into an old married couple?"

Starsky grinned. "Nothing wrong with that." Starsky would love to be married to Hutch. 

"But we are heading more toward pipes and slippers than lambs in springtime," Hutch said, very obviously tuned into what Starsky was trying to say. 

"Something like that." Starsky nodded. He was thankful that Hutch hadn't taken what he said so far the wrong way. "We're not spontaneous these days. We watch TV, shower, maybe make love, then go to bed."

"What do you want to do about it?" Hutch tightened his grip on Starsky's torso. "More sex?" he asked, nibbling Starsky's ear. 

"I was thinking more adventurous sex." Starsky had spotted a bondage magazine in one of the rooms at the brothel that they'd raided earlier in the week and it had gotten him wondering.

"More adventurous?" Hutch pushed away from Starsky and looked him in the eyes. 

Starsky could almost hear the cogs whirling in Hutch's head. 

"What did you have in mind?" Hutch asked. He tensed his body, looking directly at Starsky.

Oh, babe. Don't take it the wrong way." Shit. Starsky knew he should have kept his mouth shut. Now he'd upset Hutch. "I just thought about spicing things up a bit. I miss our bodies writhing together every night. Sleeping naked isn't enough." I want to own you, tie you up, keep you captive forever. Urges he never knew existed inside of him forced their way into his brain.

"Am I boring you?" Hutch asked, scrubbing at his face with his right hand. 

Starsky stared at Hutch. He'd never said that. Or had he, in a roundabout way?

"Answer the question, Starsky," Hutch demanded.

"God, no. Never." Starsky grabbed Hutch's hands. "Forget I said anything. I wish I'd never started this."

"Well, you have. Now tell me exactly what you mean," Hutch said firmly.

Might was well get to the point. He can only punch me. "Bondage," Starsky said. 

"Bondage," Hutch repeated slowly. "Where'd you get that idea from?"

"I saw a magazine in Shona's room when we busted her." Starsky rubbed his hand on Hutch's thigh. "Didn't think any more about it until tonight." When I sat with Bing for company while you used me as a pillow. "I'm just curious. What about you?"

Hutch stood up and walked over to the window. "It would definitely spice things up," he said to the large glass paned window. He turned to face Starsky, but didn't move any closer. "Do you want to tie me up or do you want to be restrained?" he said matter of fact. As always, straight to the point.

"I really hadn't thought that far," Starsky said, hoping that Hutch wouldn't realize he was lying. "We can work that out together."

"We'd need to know how to do it right. For safety and, you know." Hutch leaned his butt on the window sill. "I'm not sure where we'd get that kind of information. We can't go to just anyone on the street." He frowned. "Or to Huggy."

Starsky breathed a sigh of relief, mostly because Hutch hadn't dumped his ass there and then for saying their love life wasn't as exciting as it used to be. But also because Hutch was reasonably receptive toward the idea. "What about Sugar? Maybe she knows someone discreet. Someone off our beat who won't tell the world about us."

"Let me sleep on it," Hutch said. "I'm not dismissing either idea. I want to give it some thought, that's all."

Starsky jumped up and hugged Hutch. "Take as long as you need. If the answer is no, I don't care. I love you and I want to be with you forever. The rest is just icing on the cake."

%%%

Hutch lay staring at the ceiling as Starsky snored gently next to him. He couldn't stop thinking about what Starsky had said.

Hutch hadn't thought there was anything wrong with their relationship. Now he had it from the horse's mouth. Starsky thought he was boring. Starsky thought their sex life was boring. 

Admittedly, Hutch had fallen asleep on the odd night, after a hard day at work. But were things really so bad? How many times had they made love this past week? Not every night, that was for sure. 

Starsky was right. What had happened to the frantic sex sessions that they had embarked on at every opportunity? Hutch had let things slide. Gotten too content with just being with Starsky, instead of showing him how much he was loved. 

But was bondage the answer? Surely there were other ways to put the spice back into their love life. 

The more Hutch thought about it, the more he realized that this bondage idea must turn Starsky on some or he wouldn't have mentioned it. And Hutch hadn't immediately dismissed it as a bad idea. Did that mean he wanted it too, subconsciously? 

He turned his head and looked at his lover's profile. Starsky's face was peaceful, in that relaxed state of deep sleep.

Hutch tried to imagine Starsky tied up and helpless, at his mercy. The image caused a slight stirring, but nothing earth shattering. As he stared at Starsky, the image in Hutch's head changed. Starsky's face morphed into his own. He saw himself staring up at Starsky, restrained at his feet, waiting for whatever Starsky had in store for him. This time, his cock hardened, his belly churned. A need he had never felt before pinged inside of him.

Shocked by the intensity of the feeling, Hutch jumped up and ran to the bathroom. His penis throbbed painfully. He had never gotten an erection so quickly at the mere thought of something sexual. 

"Hutch, you okay?" Starsky shouted from the bedroom.

Damn, he had disturbed Starsky. "Yes, go back to sleep. I just need to pee." Hutch squeezed the base of his cock until it softened. It was a waste of a good erection, but for some reason he couldn't make love to Starsky right at this minute. He needed to figure out what these feelings meant first. One thing he did know was that bondage was definitely an interesting consideration, and it obviously turned him on. 

Now he just needed to synchronize his thoughts and feelings with Starsky's. Would they want the same things? Up until now, they'd taken turns when it came to taking the lead during love making. So what did Hutch's vision mean? Did he really want Starsky to dominate him? There was so much to be worked out if they were going do this. And he certainly wanted to explore this idea further. That much he was sure of.

%%%

Two weeks later 

Starsky opened the car window, enjoying the hot wind on his face as he drove down route 5 towards Santa Ana. This was the life! He preferred driving to being a passenger. That was why he'd insisted on taking the wheel when they'd left the musuem. A week off, and he definitely had plans for some together time with his lover. Although, driving his partner's beater had not been one of them. But it made sense, his Torino was too distinct for what he and Hutch had planned. 

Walking around a museum hadn't been part of his vacation plans, either. However, Hutch had asked for the detour and Starsky hadn't been able to think of a good reason to refuse. "Why did we just spend the past four hours walking around a museum called Charles whatsitsname?" Starsky asked.

"Those treasures from the British Museum were wonderful?" Hutch enthused, waving his hands in the air. "The papyri bearing Books of the Dead was the best thing I've ever seen. The British Museum has never loaned any of their Egyptian collection to anywhere until now." Hutch paused for a breath. "Charles Bower donated the land on which the museum stands to the City of Santa Ana. As developers go, he was a generous man. Without him, the museum wouldn't be there, and we wouldn't have seen all those amazing cultural collections."

Trust Hutch to get excited about a lot of old stuff. "I'm so glad Dobey gave us the whole week off," Starsky said. "That last case was brutal."

"You don't have to tell me that," Hutch said, rubbing his forehead. "I still have a small lump from that scum's baseball bat."

"You shouldn't have jumped between him and me," Starsky said. He had felt sick when he heard the crack of wood on skull and saw Hutch crumple into a heap. "I thought he'd killed you."

"Well, he didn't. When does this new place of Sugar's open again?" Hutch asked, scowling as he changed the subject. He lounged back in his seat with his arm across the top and twirled Starsky's hair with his fingers.

"Tonight." Starsky tried to tug his hair out of Hutch's grasp. It was starting to get annoying. Every little twist pulled at Starsky's scalp. "Will ya quit it? I'm trying to drive here," he said amiably.

"Oh yeah," Hutch said distractedly, still playing with Starsky's hair. "I can't believe Sugar would buy a club so far away from the Green Parrot in Bay City."

Starsky glanced over at Hutch. "Her brother found the building. Sugar said it was the perfect place for Shirley's. In a quiet location, but not too far off the beaten track. She couldn't wait to send us VIP tickets." 

Hutch grinned. "Do you think Sugar might have an answer to our question? She's been out of town since we spoke to her about it." He stroked the back of Starsky's neck. "Left, Starsk. Left, now," Hutch shouted.

Starsky swung the car violently into the parking lot of the Tustin Motel. He'd almost missed the turn-off with answering Hutch's questions.

Hutch braced himself against the dashboard, laughing. When the car stopped, he leaned over and nuzzled Starsky's neck. "Love you," he said.

Starsky snorted and parked next to the office of the run down complex. He was sure that Hutch would have something to say about the peeling paint and the neglected air of the building. The presumably once white stucco was more of a dirty gray and there was chunks missing in places, exposing the wall boards. Starsky walked into the grubby lobby, frowning at the dead plants on either side of the entrance. 

Hutch followed Starsky into the lobby, tsking at the brown foliage. "Doesn't take much effort to give the plants some water."

A pasty faced youth of no more than twenty leaned on the desk, with a disinterested expression. "Yeah?" he asked, less than graciously. 

Starsky looked at the guy's name badge. "Good afternoon, Lysander." What a name. No wonder the kid looked like he hated the world. "I have a room booked for Kurt Robbins and Barry Flint," Starsky said cheerfully. Not a good idea to use their real names, not with what he and Hutch had got planned. 

Lysander checked the book in front of him. "Five nights. Thirty bucks. Cash in advance," he said, staring at Starsky. 

Hutch prowled the room. He checked out the payphone in the corner before walking over to the desk and standing next to Starsky. "Howdy," he said to Lysander.

Lysander glared at Hutch, then turned back to Starsky.

Starsky extracted a wad of cash with great difficulty from his back pocket, peeled off three bills, and dropped them onto the desk. 

Lysander swept the bills into a metal cash box and handed Starsky a key. "Room Thirty, top floor, far end of the building," he said, resuming his previous stance of leaning on his elbows. 

"Thank you for your service," Starsky said a little sarcastically, taking the key. He turned and walked out of the lobby.

Hutch was sat in the passenger seat by the time Starsky walked around the hood of the car.

Starsky climbed into the driving seat and drove to the far end of the L shaped building, pulling into a space at the back side of the lot. "We're in room thirty," he said, pointing up to the third floor. 

Hutch grabbed his bag from the back seat and was up the metal staircase at the side of the building before Starsky had locked the car.

"You're not as fast as you used to be, old man," Hutch teased, leaning over the railing. "Want to throw the key up to me?"

"No." Starsky pretended to fumble with the key, dropping it onto the ground. He made sure that every move he made was deliberately slow. 

Hutch was pacing the landing by the time Starsky reached the top of the steps. He snatched the key and unlocked the door. Stepping inside, he stopped.

Starsky plowed into the back of him. "What you stop for?" he said, circling around Hutch into the room.

"Twin beds." Hutch closed the door, staring in disgust at the room layout.

"I could hardly get a double bed for two guys, could I?" Starsky snickered. He hugged Hutch. "It'll be cozy cuddling up in one bed," he whispered in Hutch's ear. "We'll just have to remember to mess up the other one before the maid comes in." Getting out of Bay City and away from their apartments seemed to be spicing things up. Starsky couldn't wait to get his hands on Hutch.

"Sardines have more space than we'll have in that bed," Hutch said, sitting down on the chair near the door, and relieving himself of his holster. 

Starsky knelt in front of him. "And why is that a problem?" He unbuttoned Hutch's plaid shirt, kissing his bare chest, and nipping his hardening nubs. Starsky licked the little pebbles gently. 

Hutch hummed with pleasure. "No problem at all," he gasped, wiggling under Starsky's mouth. Hutch raked his fingers through Starsky's hair, massaging his scalp sensuously. "We could always try it now," he said attempting to get up.

Starsky held him down by the hips. “No rush, punk." He continued kissing Hutch's torso, pushing the shirt off of his shoulders and down his arms. "So sexy," he muttered against Hutch's skin. 

Hutch wrapped his long legs around Starsky's body, his knees digging into Starsky's armpits. "Need a reason to search me, officer," Hutch giggled. 

"I think you got a dangerous weapon hidden on your person. That's reason enough." Starsky ignored Hutch's magnum lying on the table next to them. "There's something hard here," he said, fingering Hutch's groin. He opened the zipper and button on Hutch's black cargo pants. 

Hutch unhooked his legs from around Starsky and spread them wide, allowing Starsky unrestricted access to his genitals. 

Starsky flipped the hard rod from the confines of Hutch's boxers. Taking the swollen head in his mouth, Starsky teased the slit with the tip of his tongue, scrapping his teeth gently on the delicate crown. Sucking harder, he took more of Hutch's penis into his mouth. Simultaneously, he kneaded Hutch's full balls with his left hand.

Hutch threw his head back, hitting the wall behind him. "Nobody gives head like you do, Starsk." He moaned his appreciation, tilting his hips and filling Starsky's throat with his cock.

Starsky pulled back a little so that he could breathe. He began to hum as he sucked. 

"Yes. Yes. Don't stop," Hutch prompted. 

Starsky felt the pull in Hutch's groin and suckled harder, faster, squeezing firmly at the sac in his hand.

"Aaahhh," Hutch yelled, as he spurted semen into Starsky's mouth, his body convulsing with the force of his orgasm.

Starsky swallowed every ounce of liquid Hutch fired into him. He even coaxed a little more fluid by sucking Hutch's phallus like a straw. 

Hutch's arms hung limply by the sides of the chair, his eyes were closed and the lines on his forehead were almost smooth. He was the picture of relaxation, clearly sated and happy with what just happened.

Starsky stood up and bent over, kissing Hutch gently on the lips. "Who needs a bed?" he said cockily, strutting into the bathroom. He always felt a sense of achievement when he reduced Hutch to a quivering mass. 

"Where do you think you're going?" Hutch said.

"Shower. Sugar's invite says eight." Starsky turned on the water. "It's seven thirty now, thanks to you having to stop at the museum." He stepped into the shower.

Hutch climbed into the shower with Starsky, naked. "Your turn now," he said, kneeling down in front of Starsky. The water hit him in the face. 

Starsky pressed his palms on the tiled wall behind Hutch, surrendering as his partner's mouth engulfed him. It wasn't long before Starsky felt the tightening in his groin. His awareness narrowed to the hotness surrounding his cock, the intensity of Hutch's expert technique. The first time Hutch had given him a blow job, Starsky thought he had died and gone to heaven. Myriad stars danced under Starsky's closed eyelids and burst into a thousand pieces. His knees buckled.

Hutch pulled Starsky to him, skin against skin. He held Starsky upright, kissing him hard and deep. "I love you so much," he said tenderly. "Stand still and I'll wash you." 

Hutch soaped Starsky all over. The combination of the warm water and Hutch's gentle scrubbing made Starsky's skin all tingly. A stirring reignited in his belly. When Hutch had finished, Starsky returned the favor. 

The washcloth slid smoothly over Hutch's body. Starsky paid particular attention to Hutch's genitals, rubbing in steady, even strokes over the whole area. Hutch's cock twitched its interest in the activities. 

Turning off the shower, Starsky stepped onto the towel he had placed on the floor earlier. He grabbed another off of the rack, and handed one to Hutch. "Oh, by the way, remember that we're listed both here and at the club as Kurt Robbins and Barry Flint," he announced over his shoulder as he left the bathroom. "You're Barry."

"I don't know why you didn't just use our own names?" Hutch's disembodied voice asked from the bathroom. 

"Because we can't be on the guest list for a gay club, but Barry and Kurt can." Starsky shook his head. Hutch could be so dense sometimes. Starsky dressed in black leather trousers and a red silk shirt.

Hutch walked out of the bathroom and hauled his bag onto the nearest bed. He looked at Starsky and whistled. "You didn't say it was dressy," he joked, although his gaze was admiring. He almost undressed Starsky with his eyes. Hutch pulled on faded denim jeans, a figure hugging white t-shirt and a matching denim vest. 

"At least I made the effort." Starsky glared at Hutch. "Which is more than you did." 

"Hasn't failed me yet." Hutch winked, smoothing the t-shirt over his belly.

Starsky had to admit that Hutch looked so hot, so young, in the tight fitting clothes. He felt like a sugar daddy, even though he was only months older than his lover. Words stuck in his mouth. He moved forward to run his hands over the soft fabric covering Hutch's taut ass. "How is it that the more you dress down, the better you look? I'm not sure if I want other men pawing you."

"Nobody touches me except you," Hutch promised, his lips brushed lightly on Starsky's forehead. "You know where this place is?"

Starsky nodded. "According to Sugar's directions, it's just a short drive from here." He snagged the car keys and opened the door. "After you," he said, bowing low.

"Idiot," Hutch said, walking out of the door and down the steps.

 

%%%

Ten minutes later, Starsky pulled into the parking lot of a long single story, bright yellow stucco building. A simple black sign with yellow writing hung over the only entrance. "Shirley's" was written in a quiet, understated way. It was just like Sugar to name the place after his mom. The one time that Sugar mentioned her to Starsky, it was obvious they were close.

Hutch was cleaning his nails with the utility knife he kept in the glove compartment. He kept them slightly longer than most men because he said it was easier to pluck his guitar strings.

Starsky liked his partner’s nails, particularly when Hutch was ripping Starsky's back and ass to shreds. He shivered at the thought of Hutch scratching him during their lovemaking. 

Hutch stopped scraping at his nails and stared at the club. "I expected it to be more ostentatious."

"I guess Sugar's brother isn't in her league when it comes to overstatement." Starsky pulled into the only empty space in the whole lot. "Busy already, and it's barely after eight."

"It's fashionable to be late," Hutch said, getting out of the car.

Starsky followed him to the door, admiring the view of the wiggling butt in front of him. Hutch should wear those jeans more often, he decided. Starsky liked the way that the vest just skimmed the fullest part of Hutch's ass cheeks as he walked. If he continued thinking this way, he would be hard before they even got into the place. 

A black doorman the size of the Taj Mahal blocked their progress in the lobby. "Names please, sirs," he said politely.

"Kurt Robbins and Barry Flint," Starsky supplied, before Hutch had the chance to say anything. 

The doorman ran his finger down his list, stopping about halfway down. "Put these on before you go in," he said, handing Starsky and Hutch two black masks.

"Masquerade masks. Didn't say anything about masks on the invite," Hutch said, fingering the eye holes.

"Sugar's idea." The doorman shrugged. "Wear them or you don't get in. Simple as that."

Starsky snapped his mask on. "Come on, Barry. Want me to put yours on for you?"

"I think I can manage," Hutch said caustically. "Stupid idea," he muttered as he put the mask over his head. 

Starsky gaped at him. The black mask made Hutch's eyes bluer. Even more gorgeous, if that was possible. "You should wear that in bed," he whispered in Hutch's ear. "We need to get one of those." 

He had been happy when Hutch had agreed to spicing things up in the bedroom. The comfort that had developed over the years, since their first fling in the Academy, had taken some of the spark out of their lovemaking, and the time had come to be more adventurous. Having already tried threesomes and foursomes, they were looking for something more intimate, for just the two of them.

"Through the blue curtain," the doorman announced, pointing behind him. 

Starsky and Hutch pushed through the dark blue velvet curtains separating the club's interior from the lobby. The room wasn't as big as Starsky expected. To the right was a bar, and opposite them was a stage. Tables and chairs filled the gap between the two. 

Sugar, resplendent in a long, red sequin dress, belted out Doris Day's hit, Move Over, Darling. A group of four girls in white sparkly leotards and masks danced behind him. Starsky had heard Sugar call them girls, even if the dancers on stage were anything but. 

"Beer?" Hutch said in Starsky's ear. 

"Yes," Starsky replied, without even looking at Hutch. Instead, he surveyed the room. All the customers wore black masks of varying designs. The one thing they all had in common was the cut out eye holes. The staff wore yellow eye masks and the performers white ones.  
The only exceptions were Sugar and a lanky man in the audience. Neither of them wore a mask.

The man stood at the side of the stage, alone, clad from head to foot in what appeared to be a sprayed on black leather jumpsuit. Starsky wore his pants tight, but the clothes this man wore made Starsky's eyes water. The man had a commanding air about him. His shorn head gleamed in the show lights, his beard and mustache a funny yellow color. Starsky couldn't be sure if it was the lighting or the man's natural hair color. 

"Here you go." Hutch handed a bottle to Starsky. "Sugar's really going for it tonight. Do we know anybody?"

"Don't think so. It's hard to tell with the masks on." Starsky looked at Hutch, taking the beer from him. "Thanks. I guess it works both ways. If we can't tell who they are, hopefully we won't get recognized by anyone." 

Starsky and Hutch wandered around the dimly lit room. Starsky guessed that there were about a dozen tables, each seating two, three or four people. There were a couple of empty tables at the back of the room, in the darkest shadows. The main lighting came from the spotlights focused on the entertainment and a few overhead strip lights.

Starsky nodded to a few people who said hello, but he didn't know them. He saw Hutch lurch forward a couple of times in his peripheral vision. He laughed, assuming that his partner was on the receiving end of a few butt pinches. Gay men had always liked his partner. They hit on Hutch far more often than on Starsky.

"It's not funny," Hutch hissed in Starsky's ear. "Why am I usually the one they go for?"

"Because you're the pretty one," he laughed. Starsky noticed that Mr. Leather Jumpsuit was watching them intently. "Do you know that guy without the mask?" he asked Hutch. 

Hutch surreptitiously glanced in the man's direction. "No. He could be Sugar's brother. He has that 'I'm the boss' air about him. How did he get into those pants?" Hutch raised his eyebrows. "They're even tighter than your jeans!"

"Isn't he kind of young to be Sugar's brother?" Starsky's hackles rose at the admiring tone to Hutch's voice. Was it for him or Mr. Leather Jumpsuit? Starsky stretched himself to full height, straightening his posture to appear taller. He placed a proprietary hand on Hutch's arm. “Let’s sit down,” he said, pointing to one of the empty tables with four chairs.

Mr. Leather Jumpsuit inclined his head toward them, and smiled. Or were his pleasantries directed at Hutch only? Starsky wasn't sure. He plonked his beer on the table and twisted a chair around, sitting straddle-legged on the padded seat, forearms resting on the back of the chair.

Hutch shook his head and sat down opposite Starsky. He put his drink on the table and rearranged his jeans, pulling the material down his thighs. 

Starsky smiled appreciatively at Hutch’s package in the tight denim. Hutch could tug at those babies all night, it wouldn’t make them any looser around his groin.

Sugar launched into his own version of 'Gracie Fields, The Biggest Aspidistra In The World'. The crowd hooted as she slinked seductively back and forth across the front of the stage. 

Sugar finished her song and climbed delicately off of the stage. She headed straight for Starsky and Hutch, taking one of the empty seats. "I'd know those eyes and that hair anywhere." Sugar grinned at Hutch. "Welcome to Shirley's," she said to both detectives, turning to include Starsky.

At the same time, Mr. Leather Jumpsuit walked in their direction. He stopped a few feet away from their table and leaned against the wall. Watching the dancers on stage, he seemed to be ignoring Starsky, Hutch and Sugar; although Starsky could tell that the guy was taking much more interest in their group than he appeared to be. 

The dancers’ pirouettes and high kicks earned more raucous shouts from the spectators.

“So, what do you think of the place?” Sugar asked proudly, sweeping her arm in an arc.

“It’s just like you described, Sugar,” Starsky said, taking a sip of his drink. He had to admit privately, the place was nothing like he expected. Sugar had been all excited on the telephone, gushing about the intimate, newly refurbished bar, and Starsky didn’t want to rain on her parade.

“Nice,” Hutch said. “Not as flamboyant as I expected, Sugar. For a woman with your flare, it’s very understated.”

Starsky kicked Hutch under the table. “Who needs frills and flounces when Sugar’s around?” Starsky said. God, Hutch was rarely insensitive when it came to people’s feelings, but when he was, he did it big time.

“I agree with both of you,” Sugar said graciously. “My brother is responsible for the austere decor. The work on the club was already completed by the time I was free from my performing commitments elsewhere. It was too late to add the Sugar stamp, so I just brighten the place up in other ways.” She shimmied her chest, causing the sequins on the dress to rustle and reflect what little light permeated their corner of the room.

Starsky snickered. “Like these masks, I assume.”

Sugar shook his head. “Those are just for special nights like tonight.” He glanced around the room, before leaning over the table to whisper, “Too many gentlemen like you who don’t want to be recognized. You get my drift?” He winked.

“Loud and clear,” Hutch said.

“And the staff?” Starsky asked. Surely the regular staff didn't have day jobs where they needed to keep their identities a secret.

“Adds to the ambience, darling.” Sugar blew a kiss at Starsky. “I might have the staff and the dancers wear them all the time.”

“And what’s so special about Mr. Leather Jumpsuit?” Starsky pointed at the lounging leather clad guy.

Sugar looked in the direction that Starsky was pointing and giggled. “Haven’t you figured it out yet?”

“He’s your brother,” Hutch said, shooting a triumphant look at Starsky. 

Sugar clapped his hands. “We have a winner,” she squealed. 

“Well, I always was the brains of the outfit,” Hutch said. He ducked out of the way of Starsky’s hand.

“Boys, boys,” Sugar said in his female voice. “You are like children sometimes. Sugar will have to smack those cute butts one of these days.”

“Promises, promises,” said Hutch. He smirked at Starsky.

Starsky spat the mouthful of beer that he had just taken back into his glass. “I don’t think so,” he sputtered to Sugar. He might have trusted Sugar with some of his secrets, but the idea of Sugar’s hand on his butt did not appeal. The thought didn’t seem to bother Hutch as much as it did Starsky.

“Talking about your cute butts,” Sugar said, leaning toward the center of the table again. “Were you serious about...” He looked around to check that no one was listening.

Starsky did the same. The rest of the patrons were too busy ogling the girls on stage to care what might be being said behind them. 

“Experimenting more?” Sugar finished his sentence.

For some reason Starsky had felt better talking to Sugar about alternative lifestyles than Huggy. Probably because Sugar was no longer in Bay City and she understood the difficulties of having a different sexual orientation than most. “Yes.” 

“Yes,” Hutch said, exchanging a glance with Starsky.

“Good.” Sugar wiggled her fingers in the air.

Mr. Leather Jumpsuit joined them, standing very close behind Sugar’s chair. The guy was about a few inches taller than Hutch, and surprisingly muscular for his build. He put his arm on Sugar’s shoulder.

Sugar placed his hand over his brother’s. "Guys, meet my brother, Azariah." He smiled proudly up at his brother. "Az, this is, um, Kurt and Barry." He snickered at the names, winking at Starsky and Hutch.

"Pleased to meet you, Barry," Azariah said, extending his hand to Starsky.

"I'm Kurt," Starsky said abruptly, gripping Azariah's hand hard. For some reason, he felt the need to assert his masculinity with this man. Starsky’s anger rose in a very possessive way. 

The squeeze that Azariah returned almost busted Starsky's knuckles. "I like a man with a strong shake." He turned to Hutch. "And that makes you Barry, I presume." 

"Yes," Hutch said. He visibly squirmed under Azariah's gaze, hesitating for a second before taking the proffered hand. 

Starsky looked at Hutch in shock. He wasn't usually so reticent around people, especially not men. "You okay?" he asked Hutch. “You seem a little distracted.”

“I’m fine,” Hutch said, not taking his eyes off of Azariah. 

"Excuse us a minute, gentlemen," Azariah said, pulling Sugar gently out of his seat and away from Starsky and Hutch.

Starsky watched the two of them closely. 

There was lot of head shaking and hand waving from Sugar. She never spoke with her mouth only. 

Azariah whispered in Sugar's ear. His arm was permanently draped around Sugar's shoulders. There was obviously a lot of love between the brothers. They made a strange couple. Sugar's female persona looked very delicate in contrast to the tall, bald, masculine figure of his brother. 

“How old do you think Azariah is?” Starsky asked Hutch. “I’ll bet at least ten years younger.”

Hutch gulped down the rest of his beer in one swallow. “He could be, possibly more.” He studied Azariah and Sugar. “Maybe they’re half brothers. They don’t look much like each other.”

Finally, Sugar nodded and walked back to Starsky and Hutch, sitting back on the chair he had just vacated.

Azariah trailed behind Sugar and took the vacant chair between Starsky and Hutch. “Sugar tells me that you guys are looking for a little direction in pursuing other interests,” he said discretely. 

“Yes,” Starsky said. “We’re considering a deviation from the norm.” He liked that Azariah was savvy enough to talk and understand without the actual topic being mentioned. Walls have ears, even when they don’t seem to. Starsky was only too aware of that.

“We’d like to make an informed decision,” Hutch interjected. “To know if it’s right for us.” He raised the almost empty glass to his lips and drained the remaining liquid.

Starsky handed his half full glass to a passing waiter. He didn’t want to drink it now that he had spit in it. 

Hutch held his glass over his shoulder. “Thanks,” he said when the waiter to took the empty glass.

Azariah nodded. “That’s what I like to hear. So many people launch into these things without knowing the basic safety rules, and it can be a dangerous activity in the wrong hands.” 

"I'm due back on stage in five minutes,” Sugar said. “Azariah wants to show you guys something." He pulled Starsky and Hutch closer. "I can vouch for my brother. There's nothing sinister going on, he just wants to help. But he won't make you do anything you don't want to do." With that, Sugar turned and went back toward the stage.

Sugar had always been straight with Starsky and Hutch. At least, once she'd started to trust them, she had been another good friend who danced a little on the grey side, but not in a criminal kind of way. Starsky didn't doubt her now. He had asked for Sugar’s help and Azariah was Sugar’s brother. He didn’t look stupid enough to mess with two cops. 

"I can help you decide what works for you as a partnership, but we can't talk freely here. I think my office will be the best place to discuss this." He looked from Starsky to Hutch. "I do know my stuff," he said in a matter of fact rather than a boastful tone. He walked ever to a door marked 'Private' and unlocked it. "Up to you," he said, walking into the room and shutting the door behind him.

Starsky had an idea of what they were walking into, but he still said, "what do you think he wants to show us?" He looked at the closed door. Hadn't they asked for it after all? The question was exactly to what extent did Azariah's experiences go? Damn, he should have asked more questions before he let the man lead them anywhere.

Hutch walked in front of Starsky. "There's only one way to find out." He opened the door and stepped through.

%%%

Hutch stared down the long hallway.

Azariah was already a third of the way down to the end.

Hutch followed him. His cop instinct said that he should have found out more about Azariah's intentions before he followed him through the door.

However, an invisible force inside of Hutch pulled him towards Azariah. He had an insane urge to please the man. To do anything and everything he said. To accept all he had to offer. This impulse worried Hutch because it had never happened before. He felt the need to resist but somehow could not.

Azariah had looked into Hutch's eyes and dug right into his soul, holding it captive. 

Hutch had never experienced anything like it before--not even with Starsky. Any objections Hutch had disappeared into hyperspace when Azariah spoke to him. Logic and common sense had no place in the interaction between them. 

It wasn't a 'love at first sight' thing. The only person Hutch would ever love, ever want to be with, was Starsky. It was deeper, on a more subliminal level. Azariah had a presence that Hutch couldn't challenge, no matter how much his brain told him to. It was as if an override switch had been fitted to his head that Azariah's voice activated automatically. 

None of it made any sense to Hutch when he tried to think it through. His inability to function on his usual level both scared and excited him. He was unnerved that he felt the need to prove to Azariah that he would do anything that was asked of him. Part of him wanted to back away and the other part wanted to stay to find out why Azariah intrigued him so.

%%%

Starsky rushed after him. No way was he letting Hutch out of his sight. There was something happening between Hutch and Azariah. Starsky couldn't figure out what, but he would damn well find out. He wasn't leaving the two of them alone together for one millisecond. He sensed a darkness in the lanky man, not dangerous, but definitely more powerful than Starsky was. What the hell was he thinking? Where had that thought come from? This was turning into one strange evening.

Starsky followed Hutch through the door into a dim hallway. Azariah stood at the end of the hall in front of a door made of dark wood.  
Hutch reached him a few strides ahead of Starsky. 

Azariah smiled. "To answer your earlier question, I was a late baby. There are twelve years between me and Sugar."

Starsky looked at him. "How the hell did you know? Oh, I guess you get that a lot." He looked at the mysterious door. "With the obvious difference in your, um, stature." 

"No. Mom was deaf. She taught us both sign language from an early age. And I taught myself to lip read. Seems I had a natural talent for it." Azariah touched Hutch's arm. "Lip reading and knowing body language is useful in my line of work. You two should relax when you're off duty. I knew you were cops from a mile away."

Starsky looked around him. "Don’t say that out loud."

Azariah smiled. "Don't worry. Our private quarters are sound proofed. No one in the main room of the club can hear what happens back here." He placed his hand on the door knob, and looked directly at Hutch. "I know what you need better than you know yourselves," he said cryptically, as he stroked Hutch's right cheek.

"I doubt that." Despite what Hutch said, he leaned into the caress, his eyes half closed. 

Starsky saw red at the way Hutch gave into Sugar's brother, and batted Azariah's hand away from Hutch. "Don't touch him," he snarled. This guy was pissing him off now. How dare he touch Starsky's property? He resented the comment about knowing them better than they knew themselves. The prick had just met them. Of course, Sugar must have filled him in on their jobs and their relationship. Sugar had picked up on their vibes the first time he ever met them in the Green Parrot.

"Starsk. Back off," Hutch said, his palm spread on Starsky's chest to halt his forward momentum. 

Azariah squared up to Starsky. "You don't own him, yet." He looked down at Starsky. "There is so much that you both need to learn. About yourselves, and each other."

Hutch stood, his hand still resting on Starsky's chest. "Why are you being so hostile, Starsk?" he said. However, he was staring at Azariah, not Starsky. 

"Why aren't you?" Starsky retorted, scowling at Hutch. Starsky glared at Azariah. "No one owns Hutch. He's his own man," Starsky spat. He found Hutch's manner in this guy's presence very disconcerting. He was used to Hutch's sudden flares of temper when defending their honor, but not this. Never this, this wanton admiration was about the only way he could describe Hutch's behavior. And how dare Hutch protect him from Starsky's wrath?

Azariah pursed his lips and shook his head. "Talking out here is getting us nowhere." He nodded towards the door. "On the other side of this door is a room that may, or may not, be of interest to you both." He grinned. "Seeing that you're cops, I should add that what you will see is for my own personal use only. There is nothing commercial about the set up." 

There, in the back of his mind, Starsky knew what Azariah was going to show them. From the small amount of research that Starsky had done since his and Hutch’s original discussion, he assumed that he would be entering a dungeon or playroom. He’d seen both words used to describe a dedicated space for BSDM.

Azariah unlocked the door. "See what you think. If you don't want to explore any further, return to the festivities." He indicated the hallway they had just walked down. "If you are curious, examine the room, and we'll talk." He pushed open the door, and stepped away. "I'll wait out here."

Starsky entered the room first, pulling Hutch behind him. Starsky took three steps and stopped, staring at the furnishings in front of him. The center was dominated by a big, black, thick metal four poster bed with a series of bars, rings and chains. Red leather covered what he assumed was the mattress. He'd thought his own bed with the mirrored canopy was impressive and cutting edge, but this was something else. A person could be tied, chained, suspended or locked in a variety of ways to every inch of this bed. There was even a five hole stock as the footboard. To the right of the bed was a large black metal X with a series of rings adorning the edges and flat surfaces. It was tilted slightly on a metal support, which was bolted to the floor. To the bed's left was an odd looking chair, with a high straight back, long movable arms, and a split seat that looked like splayed legs. This was fitted with the same rings as the other furniture, plus leather straps of evenly spaced. The whole room was black and red. Black metal, red leather upholstery, black leather straps. 

The walls were a matte red--almost the same shade as his car, he noted with surprise. The ceiling was black with small recessed yellow lights--the only brightness in the room. There was nothing understated about the decor. It didn't seem possible that the same person had designed this room and the rest of the club. The difference was astounding. 

“Interesting.” Hutch walked around the room, touching the furniture. He rubbed his hands almost sensually over every surface. He even inspected the rings and chains, tugged on the straps. “This is quality craftsmanship.” Kneeling by the stocks at the bottom of the bed, he looked at Starsky through the golden veil of his eyelashes. He ran his fingers suggestively around the rim of the holes. 

Starsky felt a stirring in his belly. In this setting, the mask that had seemed so stupid in the club looked incredibly sexy on Hutch. The way it framed those beautiful eyes, magnifying the longing that Hutch had just turned on Starsky. Starsky recognized that look. "You want to go or stay, babe?" he asked, already knowing the answer. 

Hutch walked back over to the X and circled the structure, examining it from every angle. "Stay," he said quietly. Then he nodded. "Definitely stay."

"You sure?" Starsky had to ask the question. Even though Hutch's expression was very clear, Starsky wanted Hutch to say the words so there was no misunderstanding. He was having trouble reading Hutch's strange body language when Azariah was around.

"I'm certain." Hutch continued his study of the X. "We asked Sugar for help. Azariah is offering it." He turned to look at Starsky. "What would be the point of leaving without at least seeing if he is genuine?"

"None at all." Starsky walked over to Hutch and lifted Hutch's chin so that he could look in his eyes. Starsky had an itch that he couldn't quite scratch. "Something's not right. With you and him. Can't put my finger on it." 

"Don't know what you mean." Hutch tossed his head back, pulling away from Starsky's finger and his gaze. He walked across the room and sat on the bed.

"You're different with him. You're not you." Starsky sat next to Hutch. "My feisty partner fades into the background when Azariah looks at you. What's the deal?"

Hutch shook his head. "I dunno. I feel sort of mesmerized by him. He looks at me, talks to me and it's like my brain is thinking one thing and my mouth says the complete opposite." He paused. "One minute, his arrogance irks me, then it draws me to him. I want to say something, ask questions, but his eyes, his voice, just seem to crawl inside my head and knock every word right out of the ball park." 

"Yet you still want to see this through?" Starsky wasn't sure that he understood any better now that Hutch had explained what was happening inside his head. "If he makes you feel like that, is it safe to let him restrain you?" 

"If we were alone, I'd think twice, most likely walk away." Hutch said. He grabbed Starsky's hand. "I know you'll keep me safe," he said with complete confidence. "Anyway, who says it's me who's getting tied up? It might be you, or both of us. Or neither of us. He might just want to talk, explain how all this stuff is used."

Starsky's head was still doing somersaults trying to process how they'd got from a night of dancing in a gay club to sitting in a fully fledged dungeon and possibly about to embark on yet another taboo part of their relationship. He stood up and roamed around the room, touching the equipment like he'd seen Hutch do. Visions of Hutch spreadeagled or bent over, totally helpless, flashed into his mind. The urges that Starsky had felt when he was talking to Hutch about bondage reared up, stronger, all consuming. He wanted to possess Hutch, have his body immobile, just for him to touch and pleasure. He wanted to pluck every finely tuned muscle and sinew of his lover's perfect physique. 

Not once did Starsky's visions have Hutch doing the same to him. He had no inclination whatsoever to be dominated by Hutch. Starsky wanted his Nordic God to kneel before him. He hitched a breath. Where had that thought come from? He'd never wanted Hutch to be any other than his equal before. But in these surroundings, in Starsky's bondage fantasy, Hutch would submit totally. 

"Starsky. You okay?" Hutch was standing behind Starsky and, he put his hand on Starsky's shoulder. 

"Yeah." Starsky turned and stared at Hutch. What did Hutch want? Did Hutch see Starsky as the one to submit? "This is just a lot to take in all at once," he floundered for want of a better thing to say. "Do we really know what we want from this? What if we don't like it? What if it doesn't work?" What if you want the upper hand and I can't give it to you? he questioned silently. 

"You and your what ifs," Hutch snorted. "We won't know until we try?" He stroked Starsky's lips with his index finger. "If you have any doubts, we don't have to do this." His words saying one thing, his face another. Starsky caught the undertone of disappointment in Hutch's voice, the flicker of a frown on his face.  
Starsky smiled. "You're right. As always, babe. We can walk away at any time if we don't like what we hear." 

Azariah appeared in the doorway. "I assume that, because I am not already in handcuffs and being read my Miranda rights, you would like to know more about my proposition," he stated boldly.

Starsky frowned at him. "You sound very knowledgeable about the law. Which side do you work on?" he said, sweeping his arm around the room. "Criminal or legal?"

Hutch stood to the side of Starsky and Azariah. An amused smile played across Hutch’s mouth as he watched the interaction between Starsky and Azariah. His expression very much like the one he adopted in Dobey’s office when Starsky was getting up in his boss’ face.

Azariah laughed. "I like your forthrightness, officer."

"Detective Sergeant," Starsky corrected him. "We are both Detective Sergeants." Hutch wasn't going to stand up for himself against this man, so Starsky would do it for the two of them. Hutch might have tried to explain to Starsky why he was so demure in Azariah’s presence, but Starsky still didn't really understand. “We have to be sure of who we are dealing with.”

"Detective Sergeant," Azariah conceded. "The legal side. I was a cop in Detroit for a while, but hated it. So, I went to Harvard Law School and passed the bar. Then found that I loathed working in an office every day even more. When a buddy wanted to sell this diner, Sugar and I pooled the cash our mom left us and the rest is history, as they say. Or it will be a few years down the line."

“That’s an impressive resume,” Hutch said.

Starsky noticed that Hutch was standing closer to Azariah than to him. That pushed his buttons in a bad way. How could this stranger affect his and Hutch's behavior so much? He moved nearer to Hutch, stopping only when their elbows touched. Starsky felt that he needed to connect with Hutch, remind him that he was still there.

Hutch grabbed Starsky's hand, squeezing gently, rubbing comforting circles with his thumb on the back of Starsky's hand. 

Starsky squeezed back, grateful that Hutch had acknowledged his presence in such a loving way. His resentment towards Azariah decreased a little. Hutch was Starsky's soul mate. And he had to stop doubting Hutch's love and commitment to their forever. 

Azariah smirked, obviously noticing the contact between Starsky and Hutch. "How much have you thought about this? Do you want simple bondage, BDSM, or just to spice up your love life?" he asked bluntly.

“We’ve talked briefly about spicing things up in the bedroom and bondage,” Hutch said. “but not about specialized equipment.” His eyes flicked between the X and Azariah. He was still polishing the back of Starsky's hand with his thumb. 

"We want to take our relationship to another level." Starsky glanced around at the exotic decor. "This stuff is all new to us." He grabbed Hutch's arm. "We've never been monogamous with each other before. Never really had a relationship that was strictly the two of us." He paused. He wasn't even sure why he felt the need to explain their lives to Azariah. "We connected occasionally on an intimate level. In every other aspect of our lives, we were together pretty much most of the time."

Azariah nodded. A wistful expression crossed his face. "I know what you mean. When you get a good partner, it means everything. You give everything." He stepped backwards a few feet. "I never had that with my police partner. We watched each other's backs. I trusted him with my life." He moved forward again. "But we never had the time to develop that really close friendship because he was killed in a shootout and I handed in my badge." 

"That's rough, man," Starsky sympathized. "I got lucky. I had a great mentor." A heaviness hung over him when he remembered John and how he'd died. "And then I got Hutch." He smiled at his lover.

Hutch smiled back. “We both got lucky,” he said, winking at Starsky.

"Sugar told me about John." Azariah reached out and touched Starsky's shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze. "He was a really nice guy. I met him a couple of times in the club where Sugar sang." He turned to Hutch, smiling. "This one's a keeper in every way." He continued, more brusquely, "Back to the business in hand. If you want to explore this, I will teach you everything I know. I can give you a taste now, see what you think," he offered, as if the thought had just entered his head and wasn't the reason that he had brought them in here in the first place.

“What sort of taste?” Hutch asked, still eyeing the cross.

"Why?" Starsky asked. "What makes you think that you know what we need, and why would you want to help people you've just met?" One half of him wanted to tell this guy to go to hell, in a nice way because he was Sugar’s brother, and Starsky had asked for Sugar’s help. The other half was curious, excited, and wanted to explore this taboo world with Hutch. But, he wanted them to be safe while they played.

"Because you’ve already stated that you both need more. You want help and I can give it," Azariah said, “And any friend of Sugar’s is a friend of mine if they want to be." He looked directly at Hutch with an unflinching stare.

Hutch shivered. 

Starsky tensed, glancing around the kinky equipment. Could he really use those on Hutch without feeling either silly or cruel? This had seemed like a good idea when they had first talked about it. He was more comfortable with handcuffs and ropes, but this stuff was solid, tough looking and scary.

"You want the high that comes from exploring new territory." Azariah stood with his hands on his hips. "A new relationship holds that sort of adventure for a while. You want a new discovery, together." He emphasized the together. "This isn't the first time I've steered others to the benefits of BDSM." He circled around Starsky and Hutch.

Hutch nodded. “That’s sounds about right." He seemed less fazed by Azariah's scrutiny than Starsky was. "Together," he added, looking lovingly at Starsky. 

Starsky decided to learn all he could to understand what Hutch wanted. He turned to face the man.

"You can do as little or as much as you want. Just bondage. Full on BDSM. Full lifestyle, or session." Azariah sat on the bed. "Whatever suits you. I will show you the safe way to lead whatever kind of life you want from all this." He gazed around the room. 

"And how do we decide who does what?" Starsky asked. It sounded like a stupid question even as he asked it.

"There are various ways. You can try each role out to see which you prefer. Dom or Master; sub or slave. Or you can switch roles depending on your moods." Azariah stood up and walked over to the X, leaning his butt against the center where the two pieces of wood met. He crossed his arms across his chest. "You two have already decided." He laughed. 

"No, we haven't," Starsky said firmly. "We only discussed it once. Nothing was decided." He walked towards Azariah.

Azariah pointed to Hutch. "You want to be tied to this, don't you, buttercup?" he said confidently.

Hutch nodded, parting his lips and scraping his teeth across the bottom one. “The thought has crossed my mind.”

"And you," Azariah pointed to Starsky. "Wouldn't dream of letting anyone restrain you by choice. What turns you on is the idea of your lover trussed up and helpless."

Starsky hitched a breath. His gut clenched, and his genitals tingled at the mental image of Hutch naked, lashed to that X. A feral sound vibrated up his throat. "Yes," he gasped, shocked by his strong reaction to the scenario Azariah described.

The look on Hutch's face clearly said that he was as shocked as Starsky that this guy was so sure of what they wanted.

"Shit," Starsky said. The only person who had ever been able to read him that easily was Hutch. It worried him that they'd been so transparent because that is not something they would want to happen if they were undercover.

"You should have stayed a cop," Hutch said. "We need detectives with your intuitions."

Azariah shook his head. "I have never been happier than I am right now. There are lots of things that need to be discussed at length. For now, we will cover the basics." He turned to Hutch. "I need your agreement that you trust me and will obey any command I give without question."

Hutch nodded immediately. "Yes." 

"You will address me as Sir," Azariah informed him. "I, in return, promise that I will keep you safe at all times. Do you have any objection to being restrained or pain? Are whips and the like a yes or a no no?" 

Hutch swallowed. "I have a high threshold of pain, Sir." He paused for a moment. "I don't mind the idea of whips, but I'm not sure about the reality." 

Starsky took a step closer to Hutch, suddenly wanting to protect him from even the idea of pain being inflicted on his partner’s body.

"That's where a safeword comes in. If you want me to give you a taste of discipline, and you don't like it, just say your safe word and whatever you don't want will stop." Azariah glanced at Hutch." That is the important thing to always remember. The Dom is in charge of the sub, but the sub has the ultimate power, his safe word. Never make the mistake of thinking the sub is the weaker of the two. I know from experience that it takes a lot of courage to put yourself in the position that a sub does in every session." 

"I would like to try discipline, Sir," Hutch said. "I find the pain/pleasure scenario very interesting."

Starsky stared at Hutch. They'd discussed bondage once, how much did Hutch know about all of this? Starsky wasn't even sure if he would be able to actually beat up on his partner with whips and things. If Hutch liked it, then he'd probably give it a try.

Azariah squinted at Starsky. "If you decide to continue, I expect you to have at least one session with me as my sub. You need to know what it feels like to be on the receiving end."

Starsky raised his eyebrows. He hadn't expected that. But he could understand why. If he knew what it felt like, it may possibly make it easier to do the things Hutch liked.

Azariah turned back to Hutch. "What safe word do you want to use?"

"Torino," Hutch said, smirking at Starsky. 

Starsky laughed. Trust Hutch to use Starsky’s car as the tool to stop something he didn’t like. 

"Now for your part." Azariah looked straight at Starsky. "For this session only, I will take full charge of the sub. There will be no sex or penetration between him and me. You will lean against that wall and watch the proceedings quietly." He nodded toward the wall opposite them. "I have to have your full trust, and no intervention whatsoever. I extend the same promise that I will keep him safe at all times. And should he use his safe word, I will stop immediately. I know this is hard to ask, but distraction can lead to disaster, especially during discipline. In future sessions, should you continue, you will be the Dom and I will only touch him if the need arises when tutoring you in technique."

Starsky tried to force the lump in his throat past his Adam's apple. Could he stand by and watch a relative stranger paw and hurt Hutch without wading in to stop him? And why was Hutch so willing to be handled by someone else? 'It's not Hutch who is agreeing to this, it's the sub in him,' a voice said in Starsky's head. 'Just like the Dom in you wants to learn how to dominate him.' He turned to Hutch. "You sure you want to do this?" he whispered. 

Hutch nodded. "Only if you do," he answered. "It's one time. And this way, we will learn how to do it correctly if we want to continue."

Starsky smiled. Hutch, always the voice of reason. Always wanting to be sure that he did everything correctly. Text book all the way. "I agree," Starsky said to Azariah. even though he still wasn't sure that he could keep to the agreement, but he would try, for Hutch. However, if he thought things were getting out of hand, he would stop it no matter what the others were doing.

"You stand there." Azariah pointed Starsky to a spot about four feet away from the bed. "You strip," he said to Hutch. "Put these on," he handed Hutch something black leather and with strings hanging off the sides. "Usually, I would have you naked, but this first time, just to show there's nothing funny going on, you can wear a pouch. And this." He showed Hutch a cock and ball strap. 

“The pouch I understand,” Hutch said, eyeing the items in Azariah’s hand. “But why the straps?”

“To stop your orgasm, heighten the intensity of your feelings, because I’m in charge and I can tell you to do what I want,” Azariah said, winking at Starsky. “Within reason. Any objection?”

Hutch frowned, obviously deciding how he wanted to play this. And knowing Hutch, he'd be trying to analyze every angle. “No.” He started to take his clothes off, dropping them on the floor.

"Not there. In a neat pile on the bed," Azariah commanded.

Hutch raised an eyebrow, but simply said, "Yes, Sir." He picked up the discarded clothes, folding them carefully before placing them on the mattress. Then he tugged the underwear up his legs.

"Stop," Azariah said, when the pouch reached Hutch's thighs. He walked forward, and fastened the leather straps around the base of Hutch's penis and balls. The contraption secured each ball separately, pulling the skin taut and hitching the heavy orbs towards his hardening rod.

He was touching Hutch's genitals, and Hutch was letting him. Fuck. Starsky broadened his shoulders against the wall behind him. He'd assumed when Azariah had said no penetration or sex, and given Hutch the pouch, that he wouldn't touch Hutch's privates at all. He started to push off of the wall.

Hutch stood motionless, albeit a little tense. The straps stretched around his thighs. He looked at Starsky through the hair that had fallen over his eyes.

Starsky caught the barely perceptible shake of Hutch's head telling him that Hutch had made a decision and to go along with it. Starsky hunkered back into position, for now. This was going to be harder than he thought.

Azariah had finished with the cock and ball straps, and pulled the pouch the rest of the way up Hutch's legs, pushing his solid cock up against his belly. He pinged the shaped leather pouch in place over it. Then he arranged the two stretchy straps of the pouch around Hutch's waist and up between his buttocks. 

“That’s tighter than I thought it would be,” Hutch said with a grimace.

Starsky admired his partner’s lean stature. He had very little fat, and was all muscle, except for his chest. Starsky could never understand why Hutch's pecs weren't developed. He lifted weights, but that was obviously not enough to build those pectoral muscles. Yet, Hutch's arms, legs and abdomen were well defined. Hutch's genitals and even his curly pubic hair was hidden behind the pouch. For some strange reason it reminded Starsky of a turtle shell. He smiled at the thought of Hutch's erect cock being the turtle inside his shell, hiding from the world, waiting for Starsky to coax him out. No one else could have him, just Starsky.

Azariah walked over to the wall next to the chair. He pulled and the wall cracked. Or rather the wall opened to reveal a large walk-in closet that was lined with a whole array of leather, metal, and suede whips, paddles, cuffs, collars, hoods, chains, harness, gags, blindfolds, ropes, and things that Starsky had never seen before. Azariah moved around in the closet, picked a selection of different items before returning to Hutch. He stopped in front of Hutch, and placed the items on a two door cart to the right of the X.

"Today, I'm going to use custom made cuffs. Lots of subs prefer the feel of rope or metal, but as beginners, it's best to use pre-made softer items. There’s less chance of any damage to the joints." He handed the cuffs to Hutch. "Check them out." 

Hutch studied every side, stitch and metal attachment carefully. He nodded when he was done, and handed them back to Azariah.

"You can let your sub see the items you are going to use on him, or not. That choice is something that can be decided in the preliminary sessions. My life sub prefers surprises." Azariah buckled the black and red leather cuffs to Hutch's wrists and ankles. "Always make sure there's some movement in the cuffs. That means they are not too tight." He gestured at the cuff, nodding at Starsky to watch what he was doing. 

Starsky examined the cuffs. Hutch could twist his wrists, but there was no way he could slip out of them. Where Azariah had positioned him, Starsky had a good view of Hutch and the X. “Should I be taking lecture notes?” he asked caustically. He nodded his understanding with regard to the cuffs. 

Azariah didn’t rise to Starsky’s comment. "That won’t be necessary, this time,” he answered calmly and turned to Hutch, “Next, a blindfold. Heightens the other senses if you don't know what's coming next," he said, pulling the masquerade mask off of Hutch's head. "Is that okay?" he asked Hutch.

Hutch nodded. "Sure. I don't have a problem with blindfolds."

Azariah fastened the black satin blindfold around Hutch's head. "From this point forward, you only speak when asked a question. Answers are yes, Sir or no, Sir. If you don't like something once it's in play, use your safeword and I will stop to see what the problem is. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," Hutch replied.

"You can make as much noise as you want. Sounds, screams, whatever will not be counted as words." Azariah waved his hand in front of Hutch's eyes. "Your reactions to my actions help me determine what I can and cannot do to you. Understand?" 

"Yes, Sir," Hutch said, moving his head from side to side. 

Azariah checked the positioning of the blindfold. "Can you see anything?" 

"No, Sir."

Starsky could feel his cock hardening slightly as he watched the scene unfolding in front of him. Hutch looked damn good in the leather pouch, cuffs and blindfold. The black was sexy and strong against Hutch's light tan. Starsky itched to be the one preparing Hutch for his first passage into BDSM. 

Azariah grabbed Hutch's shoulders and, without saying a word, turned him to face the X. "Three steps forward, buttercup," he instructed, his whole manner changing from amiable to commanding. 

Hutch obeyed silently, allowing Azariah to be his eyes. Two steps brought Hutch within inches of the wooden X.

Azariah glanced at Starsky as he guided Hutch forward. "Don't use his proper name. Renaming your sub will strengthen the separation between every day and private life. It also tells him his place in the food chain."

Starsky had never seen Hutch put such trust in a stranger before. Being told what to do generally had Hutch roaring like a lion. Obviously, some of Hutch’s compliance was because they’d agreed to Azariah helping them explore this alternative life. But Hutch was being far more obedient than usual at Azariah’s domination, almost like he couldn’t say no if he wanted to. 

Hell, Starsky would probably do what Azariah told him at this moment in time. There was a strong sense of power radiating from the man. Even more so than when they had first met him. Starsky shook his head. He had to stay alert, neutral to the control that Azariah seemed to have over the room. Hutch was the sub here, not Starsky. 

"Lean forward and spread your legs." Azariah guided Hutch's body until he rested against the wooden center of the X.

Hutch widened his stance, stopping only when his toes brushed against the wooden struts. 

Azariah turned to Starsky. "I like to start from the bottom upwards. No pun intended." He grinned and bent down to clip each of Hutch's ankles to the X. "I'm using a double sided, easy release clip secured to a D-ring on the strut and each cuff." He straightened and threw one of the clips to Starsky.

Starsky caught it with his left hand. He examined the silver metal clip. It was very strong with a spring release at each end. It certainly wouldn't break under pressure, but opened quickly when the trigger was pressed. Azariah had turned back to Hutch, so he obviously didn't need the clip back in a hurry. Starsky snagged it through his belt loop.

"Next, the arms." Azariah lifted Hutch's arms above his head, resting his hands on the X. "Again, the choices are up to the couple, you can stretch your sub beyond his comfort level." He yanked Hutch's hands higher, elongating both his arms and torso. "Thus, further asserting your authority over him."

Hutch grunted, but didn't attempt to relieve his obvious discomfort.

"As it's his first time, I'm going to err on the side of caution." Azariah lowered Hutch's hands until his elbows bent a little, and fastened the cuffs to the nearest ring. "A bad first experience can ruin a person's perception of BDSM. Always make sure that your sub is strong enough to take whatever you plan to dish out. The more muscle he has will mean less impact on the body, you don't want to do any lasting damage. It's not all about inflicting pain and controlling the other person. It's about the trust, respect and total commitment that one person gives the other to obtain what they both want from a session. Many Dom/sub pairings are not in a loving relationship." He brushed one finger lightly down Hutch's spine. "Do you want me to continue?"

Hutch started at the touch and shivered. "Yes, Sir," he said confidently.

Azariah gestured to Starsky, and pivoted on the heel of his foot until he faced the cart. "Join me. I'll explain what I plan to do next."

Starsky walked over to him, studying the equipment Azariah was re-arranging on the shelf. Each item looked like it could do some serious damage to Hutch. Did Starsky really want Hutch subjected to this? He glanced over at Hutch and grinned.

Hutch twitched and fidgeted. That was a sure sign that he wanted to keep going with the task in hand.

Azariah said, "I'm going to talk you through what's going to happen in the next half hour or so. Stopping at every stage once I start will only distract us all and I want you both to get the feeling of a true session. I need him totally focused on what I am doing and saying to him alone. And you to watch my techniques, hand positions and the like closely." He reached to his left, touching Hutch's arm gently. 

Hutch stilled at Azariah's touch, turning his head toward his Top.

"I'm still here, buttercup. You wait patiently for me. Okay?" Azariah looked at the item in his hand. "I am just reassuring him that he's not alone. Never leave a restrained sub alone."

"Yes, Sir," Hutch said in the background.

"This is a deerskin flogger," Azariah said, running his fingers through the red and black multi-strand whip in his hand. "I'm starting him easy. This delivers a nice thump without the sting of some other floggers." He put it on the left hand side of the cart top. "A paddle," he said, holding up a black leather and fur bat. "This is a nice one to use for beginners. The soft fur on one side and leather on the other makes it a good starter piece." He caressed both sides gently before laying it second in the row.

Starsky stroked the flogger and paddle, feeling the softness of the strands and the fur. He was a little happier. These things didn't seem as bad as he had first thought. He was still slightly stunned at the trust that Hutch was putting in Azariah. Starsky wouldn't be as trusting if Azariah wasn't Sugar's brother. Even then, Starsky was on a razor's edge, he was aware that there are no guarantees on a person's personality. His own brother was proof of that. 

But as for Hutch. For the first time, Starsky didn't know what Hutch would be like if faced with this man in other surroundings. Azariah certainly would strike an imposing figure in the interview room. Starsky wouldn't want to encounter Azariah either as a cop or a lawyer. He was sure he would lose every time.

Azariah smiled at Starsky. "I'm not going to hurt him, I swear. If we're going to do this, you have to believe in me one hundred percent." He nodded to Hutch. "He does."

Hutch had his head inclined slightly to one side, a sure fire indication he was not only listening to the conversation that he wasn't allowed to be a part of, but he was processing every word.

"I know he does," Starsky admitted. "And that's why we're still here. If Hutch is so certain of you, then I'm with him all the way. I will not allow you to harm him in any way" he stated for good measure.

"Sugar would never speak to me again if I upset or injured either of you." Azariah said. "My big brother might be smaller, but he scares the hell out of me."

Starsky laughed. He liked and, in a small way that he couldn't really describe, disliked Azariah. He guessed that maybe he was little jealous of the power he exuded over Hutch. "Sugar is very protective of his friends." He had learned that much about the genteel man in the two years that he and Hutch had known Sugar. 

Azariah nodded. "I hope that we will be friends, one day. When I've proved my motives are pure," he said.

"If you would care to retire to your allocated domain," Azariah said formally to Starsky, standing to one side so that Starsky could pass him. "I wish to begin." The friendly guy gave way to his Dom persona.

"Okay," Starsky said, hiding a smile as he walked back to his spot left of center stage, as it were. He leaned his back against the wall, making sure that he had the best view possible from where he stood. He could see Hutch's face, as much as the blindfold allowed. He had a good view of both the front and back of the X, of his partner and Azariah. Satisfied that he wouldn't miss anything happening in front of him, Starsky relaxed a little.

Azariah stepped up to Hutch, standing just slightly to his right. He bent his mouth close to Hutch’s ear. "You are going to take everything that I give to you, aren't you, buttercup," he said sensuously. It was a command rather than a question.

"Yes, Sir," Hutch answered, pushing his ear closer to Azariah. 

"Of course, you are." Azariah run his fingers through Hutch's hair. "What's your safeword?" 

"Torino, Sir."

Azariah grabbed a handful of hair and pulled Hutch's head to the left. Keeping a firm grip on the hair, he blew on the exposed skin.  
Hutch trembled at the simple act. Goosebumps visibly raised on his body.

Starsky shivered along with Hutch. He could almost feel the cool breath on his own neck. His lips tingled as he imagined laying ownership to Hutch's luscious neck, nibbling at the prominent vein, licking the soft skin where neck met shoulder and blowing on the wet patch.

"Such a good little buttercup," Azariah said softly to Hutch as he traced Hutch's spine with the fingertips of his right hand, down to the small of his back.

Hutch purred as Azariah stroked his backbone, moving back as far as his bound limbs would allow. He was obviously craving closer contact than Azariah was giving. 

Starsky held his breath, and exhaled when Azariah moved his hand away from Hutch's back. He had been ready to defend Hutch's honor, remind Azariah that he had promised no sex or penetration. Starsky ached to see his lover apparently enjoying even the smallest attentions from another man. "You both agreed to this," his inner voice chided. He couldn't deny that he was also finding it arousing, if the twitching in his groin was anything to go by.

Azariah caressed Hutch's back. First, he gently brushed his fingertips along the surface of the skin, and then scratched with his nails, leaving pale pink lines in their wake. Talking very quietly into Hutch's ear, he snaked his arms around Hutch and tweaked his nipples, gently at first, then twisting hard. He repeated the process numerous times.

Hutch alternated between purring and mewing at the quick shifts from pleasure to pain.

Starsky could imagine what it was like to be on the receiving end of such treatment. Each sound pinged at his nerves. One minute he was aroused by Hutch's enjoyment and the next balling his fists at the sounds of pain. Somehow, he managed to control himself. It wasn't like Azariah was intent on physically harming Hutch. He was simply performing erotic torture. A quick stab of pain never hurt anyone. He just didn't like to hear Hutch in any form of distress, no matter how moderate. Yet, Starsky loved to bite Hutch's nipples, and had laughed when Hutch complained it hurt even though he actually liked it. Hutch had the most sensitive nipples. 

Skimming his hands down Hutch's sides, Azariah grabbed Hutch’s buttocks. "You like me touching you, don't you, buttercup?"

"Yes, Sir." Hutch wiggled his butt, hitching in a breath every time Azariah squeezed his ass cheeks.

Rubbing both peaches gently, Azariah pulled his right hand away and slapped Hutch's butt cheek. He did the same with the left hand. In steady succession, he slapped and caressed each side of Hutch's buttocks until the skin glowed pink where he had made contact. 

Hutch started at the barrage on his backside. He bucked his hips with each smack. 

Starsky couldn't quite hear all of what Azariah was saying to Hutch between slaps. But whatever it was, Hutch seemed to like it. A lazy smile crossed Hutch's lips as he listened intently. 

Starsky was shocked that he found the sight of Hutch’s butt turning pink erotic. He liked the blemish on Hutch's tender skin. Starsky almost salivated as the color emerged, and he longed to be the Dom applying the pressure. One thing he knew for sure, he wanted to make spanking a part of their play. He imagined his handprint emblazoned on his lover's ass. He wanted to grab Azariah's hands and stop him from touching his property. He shook his head to clear that thought. Hutch wasn't his property, yet. This whole play was Hutch's call, not Starsky's. 

"Oh, my, that really is pretty, buttercup," Azariah said, massaging Hutch's ass. "Such a delicate shade of pink. Let's see if we can't improve the tone," he said, picking up the flogger. 

Starsky swallowed. Although he was happy that Azariah wasn’t touching Hutch any longer with his hands, he was anxious that things were starting to get more serious. He had no doubt that Hutch could take the pain. He had the highest pain threshold of anyone Starsky knew. Although, strangely, Hutch fussed so much when he had a paper cut that Starsky would laugh at him and tell him to man up. A serious injury was suffered in silence. 

Starsky watched quietly as Azariah positioned himself behind Hutch. With a quick flick of his wrist, the strands of the flogger hit Hutch with a very soft thump on his upper back, just below the shoulders. Rotating his wrist, Azariah hit right, then left and Hutch’s skin flushed a deep pink. Increasing the intensity of the hit every few strokes, Azariah continued pelting Hutch with the soft deerskin.

Starsky was surprised to see that Azariah held the flogger about halfway down the handle, not at the end as Starsky would probably have done. He studied the wrist technique, because he had expected the power to come from the shoulder. But Azariah was effectively twirling a baton, or so it looked like to Starsky. 

Hutch winced as multiple strands hit his shoulder blades over and over, harder and harder. 

Starsky suspected that it was more the noise than the actual act that promoted this response. Azariah had said the flogger didn’t have much of a sting. More bark than bite, Starsky assumed. 

Keeping up the steady rhythm, Azariah shifted his focus to Hutch's backside. In a similar pattern, he struck each cheek. The thump was louder than it had been on Hutch's shoulders and the skin turned a deeper shade of red. 

Hutch flinched as the strands landed on his ass, the thud deepening with every stroke. A thin sheen of sweat glimmered on his body.  
Starsky was mesmerized by the vision in front of him. It was like he was watching a movie, but up close. He could see every little mark and dent as the flogger landed resolutely on Hutch's torso. There was very little that Hutch could do spread-eagled and attached to the wood. Starsky was proud of the way Hutch was absorbing the blows raining down on him. 

Azariah dropped the flogger, perspiring from his efforts. Small rivulets of sweat ran down the front of his suit. He gently rubbed Hutch's back and buttocks. "You're doing very well, buttercup," he reassured. "Can you take more for me?" This time it was a question, not a statement. 

Without hesitation, Hutch rasped, " Yes, Sir." His head lolled to one side, and he moaned with a smile of satisfaction.

Starsky bit his bottom lip. He wasn't sure how much more he could take of Hutch’s apparent enjoyment of what Azariah was doing to him. Emotions rampaged through him, hurt and arousal battling for the upper hand. This should be him and Hutch, no one else. He jittered, digging his feet into the floor in an attempt to stop himself from moving from his spectator spot. 

Azariah walked over to Starsky. “Sometimes you don’t even have to touch your sub. Making him wait for your next move is enough.”

Hutch shook with obvious anticipation, licking his lips. He seemed so vulnerable tied up and blindfolded, unable to do anything except imagine what would be done to him next.

Starsky watched as Hutch twisted his head from side to side. Every muscle in his body twitched, and he jerked in his bonds.

Starsky's nerve endings were on high alert. He could see Azariah, and even he didn’t know what the man was going to do next. Hutch's nerves must be screaming by now. Starsky had never seen him so wired. 

"Don't move," Azariah commanded from where he stood next to Starsky. 

Hutch immediately stilled at the firm words. 

Azariah walked back over to Hutch. "Good, buttercup. So beautiful and obedient. I am very pleased with you," he praised, his lips closed to Hutch’s ear as he spoke. 

"Thank you, Sir," Hutch whispered.

Resting his head against the wall, Starsky could barely hear what Hutch was saying. He was fatigued just watching this show. He could only wonder how Hutch and Azariah were feeling. This was far more intense than a torrid sex session, or at least it appeared. Maybe it was the newness of it all.

Hutch’s skin was still flushed with color from the flogging. His breathing was fast, but even. His head bobbed, as if it was getting too heavy for his neck to support. 

Starsky had known that it would be difficult watching Azariah and Hutch together, but the reality was far worse than he had expected. It had taken all his willpower to stay where he was. Every instinct told him to punch Azariah’s lights out and rescue his partner. He was very aware that he was being irrational. It was only Hutch's voice resonating in his head had kept him in place, "It's one time," repeated over and over as Starsky gritted his teeth to stop from screaming "Torino," as loudly as he could. 

Azariah was, once again, talking very quietly into Hutch's ear. He brushed his fingertips over Hutch’s reddened shoulders.

Starsky rubbed at his groin as he watched the two of them. His growing erection was becoming uncomfortable, confined in his pants. He couldn't quite fathom how he could hate and enjoy something at the same time. This really was the oddest situation he had ever found himself in. "You're doing it for Hutch," he said silently. 

No, he was doing it for them both. The desire to dominate Hutch was growing along with his cock. Starsky run his finger under the edge of the black masquerade mask that he still wore. The damned thing was starting to chafe his skin. 

"You are such a pleasure, buttercup," Azariah said encouragingly. He reached into the cupboard of his cart and pulled out a spray bottle.

“Thank you, Sir,” Hutch responded. His twitching had stopped and his stance was more relaxed. 

Without warning, Azariah squirted clear liquid onto Hutch’s back and buttocks. He turned to Starsky. "Scented oil." The smell of coconut filled the air.

Hutch jumped, startled by the sensation on his skin. Droplets ran down his legs. 

Starsky winced. That must have been cold on Hutch’s probably still warm flesh. 

Azariah sprayed a second jet onto Hutch’s body. 

Hutch jumped again, tensing his back muscles.

Azariah grabbed the paddle and massaged the oil into Hutch’s skin with the furry side. 

Hutch relaxed and slumped in his restraints, his chin hitting his chest.

Azariah released Hutch's feet. "Help me get him to the bed. You grab one arm and I'll get the other."

Starsky unclipped Hutch's left wrist at the same time that Azariah did the right one. 

Hutch crumpled when his wrists were freed. He moaned, low and deep.

Starsky pushed under Hutch's arm. "Is he okay?" he asked Azariah as he supported Hutch's dead weight. He was shocked that Hutch seemed so out of it.

Azariah did the same at the other side of Hutch. "He's fine. He was very receptive for his first time." He smiled. “It might look easy to just stand there and take whatever is dished out, but it is very draining especially for an inexperienced sub. There is a lot that I need to teach you, training, technique, etcetera. That is if you both want to take this any further.”

Starsky laughed. "Been training him for years, but he doesn't know it." In some ways, that was true. Hutch no longer griped that Starsky did most of the driving. And he happily typed the lion's share of reports, knowing that it was quicker than getting Starsky to do his share. There were so many ways that Hutch had given in to Starsky over the years, even though Hutch came across as the bossy one most of the time. Maybe that submissive streak had always been inside his partner, just waiting for the right time to come out. Starsky had always liked to be in control of any situation he found himself in. 

Between them, Starsky and Azariah lifted Hutch onto the bed. 

Hutch immediately curled up into a ball. 

Starsky gasped when he looked at the redness covering his lover’s curved back and buttocks. Close up, the color was far deeper than Starsky had realized. 

Azariah put his hand on Starsky's shoulder. "That'll fade quickly. It’s not intended to last for very long." He walked over to the X, retrieving the bottle of water that Hutch had drank from earlier. He put it on the nightstand next to the bed. "I'll leave you to take care of him now."

Starsky stared at the prone Hutch. "What do I do?" Starsky had never felt so completely out of his depth. What was he supposed to do for someone who had let himself be dominated into a stupor. 

Azariah snickered. "Whatever he wants. Coming down from the sort of high that he's on is different with every sub." He pointed to the bottle. "Try to get him to drink some water. He needs to keep hydrated. Then it's up to him. Some want to sleep. Some want to make love. Some just want to cuddle. The most important thing is not to leave him alone until you are sure he has returned to full reality. I have seen subs crash horribly because their Dom wasn't around when they needed them the most." 

Starsky grimaced, glancing first at Hutch and then Azariah. Crash, what the hell? He’d imagined simply tying Hutch to the bed, teasing him and having sex at the end when they’d discussed this. What Azariah was proposing was far more than he felt equipped to cope with, although he had to admit that he was excited by the whole thing. 

"Don't worry." Azariah smiled. "That's a very rare occurrence. I know that you won't leave him until you are sure that he is one hundred per cent okay." He walked to the door. "More water in the fridge if you need it. Stay as long as you want. We'll talk tomorrow, unless you want me to stay with you tonight.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Wary as he was about the crashing thing, Starsky didn’t want to share Hutch any longer. He’d cared for Hutch in the worst possible circumstances, he could cope with whatever was thrown at him.

“Okay. See you in the morning." Azariah smiled and closed the door.

Starsky crossed the room and flicked the lock.

"Starsk?" Hutch said, his right hand flailing in the air. 

Starsky quickly crossed to the bed. "Shhh. I'm here," he said, grabbing Hutch's hand and pulling him into his arms.

Starsky reached for the water, and saw a tube behind it that he hadn't noticed before. He grabbed the bottle and the white tube. Arnica was written in yellow. "Drink this slowly," he said, passing the bottle to Hutch.

Hutch lifted the bottle to his lips, sucking greedily, then sputtering.

"I said slowly," Starsky admonished. "Do as you are told."

"Yes, Sir," Hutch said, seemingly still on autopilot. He sipped at the liquid and swallowed. 

“Don’t call me sir,” Starsky said. “It’s just us now.” Putting the bottle on the floor next to the bed, Starsky rubbed Hutch’s thigh and said, "Roll over a little bit more, babe." He took the top off of the tube and squeezing a generous amount onto his hand.

"Yes, Sir." Hutch complied with the request immediately. However, this time, he poked his tongue out at Starsky as he turned over.

Starsky's insides warmed at his partner's cheeky compliance. He lightly rubbed the cream into Hutch's reddened skin.

Hutch winced. “Not so hard. Shit, my back’s tender.” 

Starsky eased up on the pressure. "There you go. At least it shouldn’t bruise."

"Thanks," Hutch said, sliding closer to Starsky and circling his arms around Starsky's waist. "I was thinking about you the whole time. I imagined that he was you.”

“I wanted to be there instead of him. It was hard watching the two of you together. You were enjoying everything he did to you.” Starsky desperately wanted to banish all memory of Azariah from Hutch's brain.

“I could only relax with him because I knew you were there watching my back. He will never touch me again if you don’t want him to. We can do this alone if you prefer. You are the only one I want.” Hutch nibbled at Starsky's nipples. “And I want you inside me, now.” He lay on his back, wincing and opened his legs. "Please," he added, a twinkle in his eye.

Starsky stared at the leather mound on Hutch's groin. He dragged the pouch down Hutch's legs, pulling it over his feet and throwing it to the floor.

Hutch's very hard penis flipped up from his belly, still constrained in the cock and ball harness. "Please," he said again.

Starsky lowered his mouth onto Hutch's erection, ignoring the leather straps. He sucked long and hard, tasting his lover's pre-cum. He could barely take all of Hutch's engorged member. Starsky'd had never seen Hutch's cock so big.

Hutch wiggled underneath Starsky. "Come on, Starsk. Please," Hutch begged.

Starsky unfastened his own pants, pushing his pants and briefs down to his thighs. His erection bounced free from the confines of his clothing. Suddenly aware that he didn't have any lube, and didn't know where to find anything in this strange room, Starsky quickly checked the drawers in the nightstand. Eureka, he found a jar of vasoline. He coated his fingers and penis with the jelly. He grabbed Hutch's legs and put them over his shoulders, jabbing his fingers into Hutch's ass, one at a time. 

Hutch was so relaxed that he offered no resistance to the invading digits. 

Satisfied that Hutch’s anus was well lubricated, Starsky withdrew his fingers, and pushed his swollen rod into Hutch. Hutch's butt was more open and pliant than Starsky had ever felt. 

"Yes, yes," Hutch chanted, forcing his ass closer to Starsky. “That’s good.”

Starsky went all the way inside Hutch without having to stop for him to adjust. He had never done that before. He usually had to pause a couple of times for Hutch to stretch before he could take Starsky fully to the hilt. 

"Please, Sir."

Sir. That god-damned word again. Starsky glanced down at Hutch to check if he was messing with him. “What did I say about calling me sir,” he said softly.

Hutch lay with his eyes closed and a satisfied grin on his face. His gorgeous lips were all red and swollen, and his imprisoned genitals were bigger than Starsky had ever seen them. 

Starsky had never seen such a wanton Hutch. He had never taken Hutch to that level of sheer abandon. Every emotion that Starsky had been keeping in check for the past few hours erupted like Mount Vesuvius. He rammed deeply into Hutch, his balls slapping against Hutch's buttocks. Starsky put every feeling into his thrusts. The intense love he felt for Hutch. The rage he felt against Hutch for submitting to another man. So much hate and resentment had built as he watched Azariah exercise his power over Hutch. Starsky pounded harder and faster into his willing partner's anus. Suddenly he didn’t care whether Hutch was enjoying it or not. Starsky’s inner demon had taken over his emotions and compassion.

Starsky's balls tightened. With one more lunge and a scream, he orgasm, filling Hutch's canal with his juices. Spent, Starsky slumped against Hutch's leg, his softening penis still buried in Hutch's crack. 

"Starsk." Hutch's voice bit into Starsky's stupor. "You're hurting my leg."

"Huh?"

"You're kinda heavy, pal," Hutch said. "Your elbow is digging into me."

Starsky lifted his head. Somehow, he'd fallen sideways and was lying on top of Hutch's right leg. "Sorry." Starsky wasn't sure how long he'd been lying there. Obviously long enough for Hutch to be more aware than he was. Starsky sat upright. His weight had left a red mark on Hutch's inner thigh.

Hutch turned on his side, wincing as he moved. 

"You okay?" Starsky asked, noticing the wince and realizing that Hutch’s back must have been rubbing painfully against the coverlet when Starsky was smashing into Hutch's butt.

"Yeah, just feel like I've been hit by a truck, inside and out." Hutch grinned. "That was something there, partner. I thought your penis was going to come out of my mouth."

Starsky swallowed, remembering the frenzied way he had attacked Hutch's ass. "Why didn't you stop me?"

"I didn't want to." Hutch pushed up onto one elbow. "I've never seen you so animated. You were raw and powerful." He licked his lips. "For once, you took me with no regard for my pleasure, just your own."

"I'm sorry," Starsky said. He couldn't think of anything better to say. All that Hutch said was true. He hadn't thought about what his assault might do to Hutch. He'd just wanted to pummel his lover for daring to let another touch him, even though they'd both agreed to Azariah’s terms. Now he felt like a total heel.

"Don't be." Hutch grabbed Starsky's arm and yanked him toward him. "That's what I wanted, for you to totally possess me."

"But I could have really hurt you." Starsky was horrified that Hutch thought this was okay. He pulled out of Hutch's grasp. "That's not what this was all about. You heard Azariah. It's about trust and keeping each other safe. I have to be in control of my own actions."

"Well, I'm not complaining." Hutch shifted his position slightly. "Though, I might be in a few hours when I can't sit down properly," he added with a smirk. His swollen genitals flopped against the mattress. 

"You might want to take that off," Starsky said, pointing at the leather straps. "Looks like you're being strangled." He rocked his hips, wincing at the way the straps were digging into the soft flesh.

"Can't," Hutch said seriously. "Only my Master is allowed to end my chastity." He looked pointedly at Starsky.

"You didn't even get to orgasm," Starsky blurted out as the thought pushed into his brain. "That's gotta be frustrating."

"Not really." Hutch smiled. "Sort of makes the whole experience more intense. Orgasm ends the pleasure climb. Without a ceiling to bang your head against, so to speak, you just keep climbing up. It's amazing, Starsk. I felt like I was going to explode, then nothing. I couldn't come, so I just kept going." Momentarily, Hutch seemed to go inward with the same glazed expression he'd had earlier. 

Starsky tried to gather together the jumbling mess that had become his brain. He was mortified at his selfish battering of Hutch's ass. Couldn't believe that he'd turned caveman because they'd let another man into their narrow world. And now Hutch was telling him that he'd enjoyed every single minute of it. 

"Doesn't that hurt?" he asked, fingering the leather tethering Hutch’s cock. It was the only coherent thing that he could drag out of his head.

"It's not painful. But I am very aware that it's there." Hutch patted the bed beside him. "I kind of like the idea of you being in charge of my orgasms."

Starsky stayed where he was, near the bottom of the bed, frozen to the spot by Hutch's words. "What? You mean that you can only come if I say so?" Starsky asked incredulously. "No jerking off by yourself. No deciding when you blow your load." Starsky swallowed. Hutch was giving him an enormous responsibility. Was he prepared to take that power?

Hutch nodded. "The only time I'm allowed to touch myself is to shower and pee. Otherwise, these," he pointed at his genitals, "belong to you."

That gave a whole new meaning to having Hutch by the short hairs. Starsky blew out a breath. "Jeez. Hutch. I dunno. Are you sure about this?" Starsky's whole world had been turned upside down in the space of a few hours. He couldn't even have imagined the night would end like this when they first walked into Shirley's.

"Never been so sure about anything, partner." Hutch patted the bed again. "I want to belong to you, mind, body and soul. I want to give this whole life a try. Be my session Master, please."

Starsky slid up beside Hutch. It was a no brainer. Hutch wanted it. Starsky was definitely turned on by the idea, by the whole thing. "Always," he said, sounding more certain than he felt. He realized that he had a lot to learn about this new lifestyle they were embarking on. By what Hutch had said tonight, he had a head start on Starsky. Starsky guessed that he would be spending much of his spare time with Azariah in the coming weeks. "I'm gonna start by taking this off." He reached for the buckles nestled in Hutch's groin. 

%%%

Starsky woke first. He was curled around Hutch, hugging him to his chest. God, he felt like a wrung out rag. His head was heavy and pounding. Gingerly he opened one eye. The first thing he saw, besides his partner's bare shoulder, was the cross standing ominously across the room from the bed. "So it wasn't a dream," he said out loud.

"Huh?" Hutch shifted slightly in Starsky's embrace.

"Last night. It was real," Starsky explained, even though he couldn't see Hutch's face and was unsure if he was actually awake. 

Hutch broke away from Starsky's hug and turned onto his back. His sharp intake of breath and even quicker exhalation said more than a hundred words. "What train hit me?" Tentatively he rolled onto his right side. 

Starsky inspected Hutch's back, looking for any sign of the whipping he took. He would kill Azariah if there was any marks on his lover. There wasn't a single one. "You okay? Apart from the train, I mean."

"I think so." Hutch sat up slowly. "A little stiff. And I feel like I've got the hangover from hell." He glanced around the room. "Things always look different in the morning." 

"You regret it?" Starsky said quietly.

Hutch widened his eyes, obviously processing what happened last night in the cold light of day. "No." He shook his head. "No, I don't. It was the most intense thing I've ever experienced, sexually."

Starsky frowned. Jealousy stabbed inside him. Hutch had always said that the best sex he had was with Starsky. 

"Hey," Hutch said, pulling Starsky towards him. "Our love making last night was the most amazing ever. What he did was just foreplay." He kissed the top of Starsky's head. "Knowing you were watching made it even more erotic."

"You seemed to be enjoying every minute of it," Starsky forced out, trying to keep his voice steady. There was still an element of resentment that Hutch had submitted to another man. Starsky's rational side kept telling him that he'd agreed to it, that Hutch hadn't cheated on him. His irrational side couldn't dismiss the niggle just yet.

Hutch put his finger under Starsky's chin, pushing his head back until they were eye to eye. "You are the only man, the only person, that I love. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. This," he swept his arm around the room, "is fantasy. A fantasy that I'd like to explore, with you."

Starsky sat up and straddled Hutch's lap, their genitals touching between them. "It hurt more than I ever imagined, having to stand by and watch him," he didn't want to say Azariah's name, "touch you when I couldn't."

"He'll never touch me again." Hutch twisted Starsky's chest hair in his fingers. "Azariah said that any future session would be me and you." He brushed his lips against Starsky's. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

Starsky pushed Hutch down onto his back. "I want to. More than anything I've ever wanted before." He gripped Hutch's nipples, pulling gently. "I want you tied up and helpless. I want you to call me Master. I want you to beg," he said savagely. Releasing Hutch's nubs, Starsky sat back on Hutch's thighs. He was shocked at the harshness in his voice. Images of him pounding Hutch like a madman flashed across his eyes. "I'm sorry. Bondage seems to bring out the animal in me. Maybe we shouldn't do this."

"I like the animal in you." Hutch grinned. "I want you to control everything I do. Sometimes."

Starsky shook his head. "The emotions that come out of me are dangerous. I might hurt you."

"That's where Azariah comes in," Hutch said matter of fact. "He can teach us how to do this safely. Show you how to take control of me, and yourself." He reached for the bottle of water on the nightstand.

"That's probably not cold anymore," Starsky said. "It's been there all night."

Hutch took a swig and made a face. "It's wet. I just need to rinse my mouth out." He took another drink.  
"You really want to do this?" 

"Yes. We have five days left of our vacation. We can stay here and have a few sessions with Azariah." Hutch offered the water to Starsky. "If either of us decides we don't like it, we stop." He looked at Starsky. "Agreed?"

"Okay," Starsky said, taking the bottle from Hutch and returning it to the nightstand. He lay full length on Hutch, rubbing their genitals together. "Now I just want to make love to my partner, vanilla style."

%%%


End file.
